[well, here's the thing. it may not be his own, but one of the memories composing mathis claude's patchwork history is this: being small and alone, left shut away in the dark, sobbing in fear. he freezes, at first, when he's plunged into darkness, clutching the staff he has with him. he grabs for the hand he had been holding, just before, but--
it's not there.]
Lavi...? Ashlyn? Rondo-
[...he's alone. it's dark and he's here alone and-
please, i'll be good, i'll be a good boy so please let me out...
-they left him. they don't want to put up with him. (who didn't? what did they look like-- he tries to remember and only recalls the faces of the three who should have been here. they've left him and it's his fault.)]
Please-- please, are you here-- I- I'm sorry, please, come back-!
no subject
it's not there.]
Lavi...? Ashlyn? Rondo-
[...he's alone. it's dark and he's here alone and-
please, i'll be good, i'll be a good boy so please let me out...
-they left him. they don't want to put up with him. (who didn't? what did they look like-- he tries to remember and only recalls the faces of the three who should have been here. they've left him and it's his fault.)]
Please-- please, are you here-- I- I'm sorry, please, come back-!